Thirty-Three
Rilee
It wasn’t really an apology but it felt good, a recognition that things weren’t right between us.
Swiping out replies felt like being caught with the ball after dribbling in man–to–man defensive coverage.
Awkward, uncertain, and constantly looking for an opening.
I didn’t really want to give him back the drawing, I liked it, and wanted something to hold onto if everything blew up between us.
Relief flooded through me when he told me to keep it.
When he asked to meet that relief swelled into a wave of anxiety.
That was what I wanted, a chance to hear from him so I could feel what to do. To decide whether there was something we could build on. Whether we could trust each other. If I didn’t go I’d never know, and I wanted to know.
ME: When?
CRAIG: 1pm?
ME: ok.
Now what to do for a few hours? Pace. A lot.
I texted Mia that I was going to see Craig again and she sent me back a thumbs up.
It felt stupid but I couldn’t help pawing through my closet and changing shoes, and pants, and then shirts.
At the last minute I settled on jeans and a long-sleeved knit turtleneck.
A puffy down vest and pair of new black ankle boots completed the outfit.
I purposefully left only enough time to brush my hair.
If Craig required perfectly manicured hair-dos he was not the man I thought he was.
After a week of overcast weather, the blue sky was blindingly bright.
Traffic was slow on the bridge. Construction barricades had narrowed it to one lane, but the cafe's parking lot was only half filled. Craig’s truck was parked with its nose toward the steep riverside slope.
There was a stall open next to it but I parked facing the other direction. No sense in tempting fate.
I’d never been to Riverside but it was a popular place for events like a Mother’s Day brunch or classy birthday dinners. The decor distracted me from the hostess. All the tiny trees around the room made me wonder, had Craig chosen the location because it would remind me of him?
“Do you have a reservation?” the hostess repeated.
“Uh, I don’t know. I’m meeting someone, Craig Green? Maybe it’s under Rilee Horner?”
“Green Horner, I have that here. You’re on the patio.” The hostess looked me over and added, “Will that be okay?”
An hour earlier I’d have probably said no, but it was just warm enough if I kept my coat on. I could also claim to be cold and leave if things went badly. “That’s fine.”
“Then right this way.”
The place was only a third full so either Craig really wanted to be outside or he was looking for ways to be slightly annoying.
Following the hostess, I tried to calm down.
He was here to apologize, he’d reached out.
He hadn’t been angry at me. Well, that was what I was here to find out.
The patio was awash in gold sunlight. More bonsai trees decorated the concrete and wood space.
“Here you are,” the hostess directed me to the table where Craig was already seated. He stood as I approached, a nervous smile on his lips.
I pulled out my own chair and we sat down. Sprinkled with the spring sun, the river was a broken sheet of gold. I wasn’t even looking at him. What do you say to the man who’d left you naked and afraid?
“I’m sorry.” Craig’s voice was almost drowned out by the river.
You say nothing, but if he wants to talk, you might listen.
Unless the waiter arrives at that moment to take your drink order.
“We’ll take two coffees,” I ordered for both of us to get rid of the guy.
“We are probably going to need a lot of time to look over the menu.” Folding my hands in my lap I turned back to Craig, and waited.
Restlessly Craig rubbed at the twisted design of the table. “I’m sorry,” he repeated, his gaze almost meeting mine. “You didn’t deserve what happened. A lot of things were going on at once and it was really overwhelming.” His eyes drifted down to the table. “I guess I got scared and embarrassed.”
The coffee arrived and we both snatched the cups up, neither of us looked at the menus.
Holding the mug like his accustomed protection, Craig continued.
“It’s not an excuse for how I handled things, but the accident changed a lot for me.
I’m not the same guy I was before and I am still figuring that out.
Regardless of my problems, I am sure you were confused and hurt. I am very sorry.”
Confused, hurt, scared, abandoned. A lot had happened in those few moments, but hearing him give voice to what was brewing inside of me, recognizing it, was lovely.
The sun, dazzlingly bright, reflected off the water and I blinked to clear away the gathering tears.
My mother never got an apology. Just blame.
Setting the cup down, Craig’s worn eyes locked on mine. “I don’t know what I have to offer, but I still want to find out what we are together.”
Together. If he continued to put his finger on my heart I could do together.
Reaching my hand out I took his. When my fingers touched the weathered deep lines criss-crossing his hands my body felt it all.
The cold from the chair on the back of my thighs, the heat of the spring sun on my cheeks, the warm prickly-but-soft texture of his work-worn hand, the hard curved shape of the table under my other palm, and the smile in his eyes.
I felt it all in my bones as the image of Craig wrapped in the sheepskin jacket with brass buttons, sunlight drawing out the edges of him, snapped into focus.
My dream locking into reality. Vertigo writhed in my belly and an uncontrollable laugh tickled up my spine and broke out.
Oh, the manipulation of creation. Had I never had a choice to begin with?
Were Craig and I just being smashed together like atoms until we fused?
I had to tell him. It wasn’t fair to him, believing this was all me and him.
Together sounded so nice, but if I didn’t tell him there would always be that doubt that it wasn’t us, that we were here because someone or something else wanted it instead of us.
I had to say it even if it meant there was no together.
Gripping his hand I opened my uncertainty, “Craig, I have to tell you something.” He squeezed back and began to open his mouth, but I stopped him.
“No, let me speak. I haven’t been … entirely honest.” Where did honesty really belong in destiny, in magical manipulation?
“You, me, I’m not sure it’s … natural. For months I’ve been dreaming about you, about this moment.
Here.” It sounded so sappy and stupid. Maybe even needy and desperate.
“What I mean is that before I saw you at the basketball game, I dreamed this. You and me, at this very table. The sun in my face, you in that coat. And not just once, I dreamt it over and over again.” A shudder passed through him and into my fingers.
Here it goes, the earthquake, the volcanic eruption that would burn everything away.
“Me too.”
The rushing roar of the river rose in my ears along with an odd numbness, a total disconnect from my body. “What?”
“Me too.”
I hadn’t expected that.